Passage 37 Christmas Carols
Usually at this time of the year,Christmas carols can be heard all over New York.They will waft from any street and lane,even from the dirtiest station of the dirtiest route, Route 7.Many people have to change trains there.When dusk falls, the commuters have to line up to move upstairs.
The train is to clime up and onto the overpass and drive its way through this dirty and messy block.Peering downwards and into the windows of some extremely dilapidated building, passengers may sometimes see some mysterious-looking orientals dressed in Japanese-style dark suits practicing karate. Looking further downwards,they may see an elderly black woman wearing a dirty flowery skirt, and holding a big plastic bag.Breathing with much difficulty, she is tottering along. If one happens to be in a dreamy and imaginative mood,he might think he has blundered into Hollywood and happens to be watching the making of a crime film. This is America too!
At the sight, some “rags to riches” dreamers might burst into tears. The other day, Christmas fast approaching, I was changing trains here. It was cold and wet. People inched forward, intending to change to Route 7. Then I heard the voice of a child, who was singing “Silent Night” to the accompaniment of a small accordion. They were standing at the foot of the stairs, an elderly man and a little boy. Holding a little red tin can in one hand, the boy was ringing an iron bell with the other. His little face that appeared above his black overcoat was flushed in the cold air. Some passengers produced coins and dropped them with a tinkle into the can. In the bone-chilling dusk, the bell kept ringing, and the child singing, loud and clear.